


Both Cross and Ecstasy Of the Heart

by flamingosarepink



Category: Formula 1 RPF
Genre: Angst and Feels, Angst with a Happy Ending, M/M, Self doubting, Set in the same verse as Which Is The Very Breath
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-05
Updated: 2020-02-05
Packaged: 2021-02-26 10:53:43
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,377
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22567474
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/flamingosarepink/pseuds/flamingosarepink
Summary: Pierre isn’t one for the close confines of the club scene, the one Charles and his other friends whom Pierre admittedly doesn’t know well enough descend upon along with all of the other eager twenty somethings of Monaco flock to on Friday nights. At least, the Friday nights that coincide with the Winter break. The Friday nights where Charles can throw caution to wind like he isn’t Ferrari’s latest boy wonder.
Relationships: Pierre Gasly/Charles Leclerc
Comments: 6
Kudos: 22





	Both Cross and Ecstasy Of the Heart

**Author's Note:**

> Title comes from the aria Un di, felice, eterea from the opera La Traviata by Giuseppe Verdi.

Pierre does not by definition, go out. 

He finds that he prefers the few times every so often when Charles insists on taking him to their favorite restaurant down the street from their flat, the one where Charles took him to the week he moved in. The very same restaurant where they instantly recognize Charles the minute he walks into the door before they whisk him away to the chef’s table in the ultra private wine cellar, surrounded by vintages from years gone by. It’s quietly relaxing and when it’s only the two of them and the wine, Charles dares to hold his hand for a moment under the table. 

Charles by definition, does go out. 

Pierre is reminded of the differences in their temperaments at moments like this, as he has been all of the other times in all of the other different ways. 

“You should come out with me tonight.” Charles looking at himself in the mirror by the door as he does the buttons up on his crisp white shirt leaving the top two undone, his words more of a statement like he is expecting a different answer other than the one that Pierre usually gives back in response. 

“No, I don’t want to.” Pierre isn’t one for the close confines of the club scene, the one Charles and his other friends whom Pierre admittedly doesn’t know well enough descend upon along with all of the other eager twenty somethings of Monaco flock to on Friday nights. At least, the Friday nights that coincide with the Winter break. The Friday nights where Charles can throw caution to wind like he isn’t Ferrari’s latest boy wonder. 

“Let me guess,” He knew full well this was the answer he would be getting. Charles has a chuckle to his voice as he walks over to where Pierre sits on the couch, blanket thrown over his lap with a bottle of whatever nice wine Charles has in his wine fridge standing proudly from its place on the coffee table, glass accompanying it. “You’re going to do what you always do, naturally. You watch one of your favorite old movies, maybe you drink some wine. If you happen to pour yourself a glass, sometimes you don’t even finish it.”

Charles knows him far too well. 

“Just call me if you need me.” It’s something that Pierre always says.

“I will.” Charles says over his shoulder as he leaves, the door closing soundlessly behind him. It’s what he always says in response.

§

Pierre doesn’t even know what time it is exactly when his phone buzzes to life. One in the morning? Probably. Two in the morning? Probably far more likely. Wine glass? Barely touched. He answers the phone call with no hesitation.

“You should have come with me!” The voice, from what Pierre can hear over the sound of the loud dance music is unmistakably that of Charles. “Trust me, you would have had the best time!” 

“Charles, do you even know what time it is?” 

“Pierre, were you sleeping?” Something in his voice seems as if he is about to laugh, and Pierre thinks that he hears Charles say something in rapid unintelligible French to someone.

Pierre glances up at the clock on the wall, which reads exactly 1:30 in the morning. There are two solutions to this problem regardless of what Pierre knows he should do, his mind weighs each solution carefully. “Yes Charles,” Pierre heaves out a tired sigh as he rubs at an eye. “I was.” 

Charles seems to make his decision for him when he hears a muttered swear word on the other end of the line, when Pierre has gathered himself off the couch and walked the short distance to the door after having grabbed his keys off of the kitchen countertop. 

“You don’t have to get me, I could easily find my way home!” There is some laughing, accompanied by the loud dance music that Pierre can barely hear over. 

“Charles, I don’t _think_ you understand. I am coming to get you.” 

There is no response before Charles seemingly hangs up the call as Pierre steps out of their flat and towards the elevator. It is exactly what Pierre expects, it’s nothing that Charles hasn’t done before. 

§

On any other night, Pierre might have found it in himself to enjoy the scenery of the street outside their flat. Everything seems so alive, so vibrant in spite of the late hour. He feels almost a stark contrast to anyone else out on the street, infinitely more well dressed than he is in his sweat pants and a black t shirt that shows off the muscles in his arms just so. Thankfully only five minutes away, the club that Charles flocked to with his friends is one that Pierre recognizes as only one of the most exclusive in Monaco.

Again, not exactly his kind of place. 

With his hands in his pockets as he waits to cross the street, shifting his weight from one white Puma clad foot to another. The light changes, the road clears. Feet carry him forward. Charles comes view as Pierre makes his way across.

Something in Pierre’s heart swells at the sight of him, looking some how younger than he actually is. For a moment, Pierre is reminded of Charles from his time at Sauber. Younger, good-looking, easy going and with limitless dreams.

“I knew you’d be here.” Charles walks towards although if Pierre is entirely honest, the action is far more comparable to one falling into the arms of another.

§

“Pierre, I love you.” Charles’s tone of voice is as adoring as Pierre has ever heard it, and for a moment something in Pierre’s mind tells him to keep looking forward towards their building, the noise of the busy street drowning out anything else that comes to the forefront. Yet, Pierre cannot help but glance at Charles- the very same Charles he has always known who is now tucked against his side with Pierre’s arm around him to steady him on uneasy feet. There is something endearing about the look in Charles’s eyes which reminds him of the day he managed to convince Pierre moving to Monaco to live with him was the very best of any idea he could have had wrapped up in a very confidently simple air. _I think it will be nice. I trust you._ But that same look in Charles’s eyes had betrayed his words.

The two of them had never been ones for verbal communication of feelings. Words were only mere words, they preferred to show it instead in a myriad of different ways. 

“I know, Charles. I know.” Pierre says as they cross the street, his hold firm. He’s never been more thankful to walk into the lobby of the building, the security attendant at the desk looking up briefly at the sight before looking down again. There are more important things to attend to than a would be friend helping his friend back into his flat at this ungodly hour. The only thing is, they have no idea. They really have no earthly idea. 

Once in the confines of the elevator, Charles leans against Pierre, letting out a breath. “What would I do without you?” 

“I would prefer not to think about it.” Pierre says calmly once the elevator pings and announces that they’ve arrived on their floor. A gentle squeeze to Charles’s hip prompts him to gather his bearings before they walk out into the quiet corridor. The path to their doorway isn’t far, thank goodness. 

Once the door is locked and closed behind them, Pierre lets out a breath of his own that he wasn’t entirely aware he was holding in once they are both back in the confines of their shared bedroom. Thankfully, Charles doesn’t seem uncoordinated enough to find the familiar shirt and shorts he sleeps in that Pierre set out before he left. 

At the exact moment the two of them climb into bed, thoughts that were once as noisy as static become calmer, more like the waves against the wood of the marina below. As sleep is about to overtake him, Pierre feels the warmth of closeness near and tangling legs.

Everything is still.

**Author's Note:**

> The playlist for the fic is as follows:
> 
> \- Un di, felice, eterea // Giuseppe Verdi  
\- Suite for Theorbo in G major // Robert De Visée  
\- Suite for Theorbo in C major // Robert De Visée  
\- Reflets dans l’eau // Claude Debussy


End file.
